


Errands and Problems for a Book

by Ferairia123



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley to the Rescue (Good Omens), Cursed Book, F/M, Historical Inaccuracy, Historical Reference, Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Inaccurate Arthiritis description, M/M, Magical screw up, Mention of Grimoire, Mentions of Charles Dickens, Mentions of Dantalion, Mentions of past Trafalgar Square attraction., Minor Character Death, No Beta, Trafalgar Square, Trafalgar Square Tree Lighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-19 15:22:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22112971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ferairia123/pseuds/Ferairia123
Summary: Crowley was looking forward to the lighting of the Christmas tree in Trafalgar Square and thought of going with Aziraphale. Fortunately, Aziraphale was running an errand there too.However, the errand turned out to be a big problem.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	Errands and Problems for a Book

**Author's Note:**

> It was supposed to be a Christmas fic but it grew and grew. 
> 
> Honestly, I was aiming a oneshot about Crowley tempting Aziraphale from doing his book stuff.
> 
> Almost three weeks of work, this one came out.
> 
> Happy reading!

It was a white Christmas in the UK for the year. 

Despite the cold, Trafalgar Square was buzzing with people as they all waited for the Mayor to come up and light the Trafalgar Square's Christmas Tree. 

Crowley was always one for the lighting. Previously, it was more of a site ripe for minor sin pickings while enjoying the general chaos of the crowd. Of course, it's mostly cancelled out when most of them goes to Church or start caroling or doing general good deedsss, as per the season's spirits. 

Now that he was more or less retired, he thought of going there with company (read Aziraphale) and he did. 

"Honestly, I've been only to a handful of these." Aziraphale said excitedly as they stayed well behind the line of the crowds. "It so nice to have a crowd out with so much goodwill!" 

Crowley shrugged at that nonchalantly. "There’s also the Blessing of the Crib later."

Aziraphale absolutely light up at the idea but did a double take at Crowley. “You observe the Blessing of the Crib?!” He asked in surprise. 

“Hard to miss with the Crib just down there.” Crowley reasoned, gesturing at the yet-to-be-filled display box not too far away from the busy street. “Mind you, nearly got myself burnt a few times when I had to pass through.” 

Aziraphale couldn’t help but hissed in sympathy, "Well…” He began awkwardly. “I guess I have something for my itinerary later.” He said kindly as the Mayor gets up on to the podium and people had started cheering. She started off with the origin of the tree lighting tradition. 

"Oh now, do you still remember that time?" Crowley asked as she continued on about the tree being gifts from the Norweigian government as thank you for the aid given during World War 2. 

Aziraphale gave a nostalgic sigh. "Yes, I do.” He answered. “Quite a riot, wasn’t it?” He said giddily. “Once the lighting was done, there was carolling under the tree, children playing around while waiting for the service and lovers just lounging around at the sight of the tree. All of them filled with gratitude for the peace that came.” 

“Yep, loving alright.” Crowley smirked salaciously in agreement. 

Aziraphale rolled his eyes at that despite the amused chuckle. “There’s better, more innocent ‘fun’ to be had nowadays.”

“An angel? Telling a demon about fun?” Crowley said with a mock scandalous air, earning a grimace from the said angel. At that Crowley laughed. 

"Dickens had such a fuss over making Christmas celebrations into family rated fun times. Had to sit through a few of those for my assignments." The demon shuddered at the memory.

"Ah yes, the Christmas Carol." Aziraphale said fondly. "I still have his first edition, you know." He declared proudly.

"Obviously. Would be surprised if you didn't." He said with knowing nod. The Norwegian representative had gone up to give his speech. "Since we're here, did you know they had a huge lamp here? It looked like a small sun."

"Ah, yes. I vaguely remembered that within the last decade. It did look like a small sun." He noted, remembering a very odd source of light during a very cold month. 

“You should have seen the humans.” He started with an impressed tone. “They were flocking about it like a moth to a flame. It was warm, though. Can’t blame ‘em with winter and all. I joined them basking under it, too.”

Aziraphale snickered. "Figured as much, being the serpent that you are."

"Very much so." Crowley replied proudly with a strut.

"I distinctly remember a huge chess set in ice here, once.” Aziraphale as they crowd went wild with the lighting. Both of them joined in with the cheering.

“Yeah, there was.” He said as he gave a rather mischievous snicker. Just then the tree was lit up, causing the crowd to cheer.

Aziraphale knew better than to ask about it as the mayor and, probably the Norwegian representative were giving their farewell and season’s greetings.

“Well, there’s that. You said you were going somewhere?” Crowley asked giving a glance at the now lit up tree.

“Oh, yes. The National Gallery.” Aziraphale said, already walking towards the building.

Crowley froze mid-step. “Wot?”

-o-

There was something….well, spooky about the National Gallery. Plus fine arts. He didn’t know what was on exhibition today but he definitely knew that there must be at least one where he had a hand if. The veiled hum of pride and greed in the place had him in a kind of pleasant demonic or evil buzz. 

Aziraphale had stopped at one of the side entrances.

"Are we waiting here?" Crowley asked almost cheerily as Aziraphale checked his watch.

“Well, this is our rendezvous." Aziraphale faltered. "A bit...spooky, isn't it?"

On top of the fact that they were near a complex with low level evil emanation, they were in a dark, remote walkway to the dingy service entrance and some of the pedestrians were giving them odd looks, if not dismissive ones. Already he could feel the starts of suspicion and disgust.

Crowley snickered. "You can say that again, angel." He commented. He was smiling lightly as well. "Your friend's late?"

Aziraphale nodded with a grimace. "I hope nothing happened to him. He's been rather frail lately." He fretted.

Crowley gave him a questioning stare before Aziraphale scoffed at it. "Nothing evil, mind you. I was asked to appraise some books."

Crowley waited for an elaboration but he didn’t get any more response than that. "So long as we're not dealing with Nazis again."

"That was one incident." Aziraphale defended stiffly. "I've been careful since."

Crowley merely shrugged. "You sure we have the right place, then?” Crowley asked again, sensing whether there had been any activities that might have hindered Aziraphale’s friend.

“Very sure.” Aziraphale affirmed, wringing his gloved hand idly.

Then an elderly man walked into view. Wizened and mousy, he had a leather bag with him. 

"Mr. Fell." The man greeted with a posh accent as he squinted to get a better look at them and gave out a hand for a handshake.

"Mr. Connaugh, I was beginning to worry." Aziraphale said as he shook his hand and helped with the bag. The was a sharp zing of evil now. Crowley nearly fidgeted out of curiousity.

"Bah, there's still life in me yet." He brushed it off with a laugh before turning to Crowley, next. "I'm Percival Connaugh. How do you do?" He said as he extended a hand.

"Anthony J Crowley." Crowley returned the introduction with a neutral smile as he turned his attention back to Aziraphale, who looked normal. Was it his imagination? It’s ‘spooky’ enough to surely be sensed by the angel.

"Now, Mr. Fell. I believe these would be precious if it turns out to be the real thing." Mr. Connaugh said with restrained excitement and a mote of something…evil?

"Please do take care of them, too." He added in worry. "I've done what I can to slow down the deterioration."

Aziraphale gave him his best comforting smile and a reassuring pat over his shoulder. "I'll do my very best. Books are my heart after all." 

Mr. Connaugh gave him an acknowledging nod. "Need to get to get back to Anne before she comes a-searching. Good night, Mr. Fell, Mr. Crowley.” He shook their hands again, lingering with Crowley. “I apologize for not being able to greet you properly.”

“No, no. It’s perfectly understandable. You should return before you’re missed.” Crolwey comforted despite his growing curiousity on his evil aligned thoughts and the probable source of it, the books that Aziraphale was now carrying.

The elderly man smiled at him and went with a wave to the both of them.

Once he disappeared at the corner, Crowley whipped around to Aziraphale as he immediately used a small miracle to stabilise the books, masking the evil aura as it did. He knew what he was doing when he met Crowley’s eyes.

“I think we should make haste for the bookshop as well.” He said, putting up an innocent if not excited front and lead the way.

“Aziraphale, what is that?” Crowley asked as he followed.

 _‘We’ll discuss this at the bookshop’_ His mind received. Crowley nearly gawked at the psychic message, Aziraphale only managed a grave look as they continued their walk.

Crowley’s lips thinned in disgruntlement. Catching his stride, he grabbed on to the angel’s elbow and miracled them back to the car.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale said in surprise before calming down with a slighted look.

“Don’t you dare give me that look.” The demon said testily. “What in Satan’s name is that?” He asked as he stared at the unassuming bag with the evil emanating book.

Aziraphale withered at that. “It’s a grimoire.” He finally answered. “Supposedly, he thought it was Grimoire of Pope Honorius-“

Crowley snickered at that, receiving a glare from the angel. He gave an apologetic bow of his head at that, choosing to hold his tongue.

The story behind that book was hilarious and somewhat sadistic considering it was Aziraphale turn to carry both of their Assignments. Aziraphale’s assignment was to bring the target back to the right path and Crowley’s assignment was for the man to create something infernal that would last through the ages. Thus, a mix of occultic and holy ceremonies and rituals was produced into that book. 

If anything, it would lead the straying ones to church and before they could get further, they'll be guided back. But should that fail, Crowley could report that only humans who can practice the Arts are able to use it thus the low amount of souls and evil generated. Ironically, grimoires are a private thing and a publicized one must either be decrypted or carry out by certain descendants i.e the ones who had previously sworn themselves to Satan.

Unfortunately for Aziraphale, he had to deal with the burn from all the occultic practices and nearly got himself discorporated when one the rituals succeeded in summoning a demon…well, a monster really. Just a mindless creature of malice and destruction.

Thankfully, Crowley (out of professional concern at that time or so he said) was around and helped slay it with Aziraphale. Of course, then the Inquisition happened. Let’s just say the debt was repaid.

“But as you can see, well…feel-” The angel gave a shudder. “It’s clearly occultic.”

Crowley stared at him. “How did you come across this?” He asked with suspicion. Aziraphale couldn’t see it but he was narrowing his eyes on him as well.

“As I said earlier, Percival had been frail but he was previously even more frail. He claimed that the book had given him new lease on life with ‘prayers’ from this book.” Aziraphale was looked grim as he said it. “If it was the Grimoire of Pope Honorius III, nothing in that book would have helped as we both know what the contents really are. I suggested that this book was the first edition of the Grimoire in order to get my hands on the book. I was right in thinking that this was of magical, if not occultic properties.” 

Crowley took a moment to take in the information. “So, you’re saying that you have an infernal artefact in your possession and we’re…confiscating it?”

Aziraphale an exasperated huff. “No, we’re switching it and destroying this.” He said as he gestured to the book. “If we confiscate it, he’ll be suspicious.”

“But how about Percy?” He asked in surprise. “If I’m right, he’ll be a propped up cadaver as soon as the book is burnt.”

Aziraphale looked away from Crowley guiltily. “His time will come. Regardless of whether or not the book is destroyed.” He said in an uneasy tone. The same tone Crowley had heard when he needs to carry out really ‘dirty’ Heavenly assignments.

“I hope to find an answer in this and to see if I can do anything about it.” He added in determination, meeting his eyes again. “If there’s a way, then I’ll see to it with my very best.”

Crowley couldn’t help but feel proud at his show of determination. It looked very much like defiance. Sure, it’s not as radical as sinning or a Fall inducing crime but it’s nice to know Aziraphale has it in him. Just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing. “Well then. Let’s get to the bookshop. No dilly-dallying” He said in mock scolding and a start of his car.

Aziraphale gave a small happy smile, more to himself than anyone else.

-o-o-

Once they were at the bookshop, Aziraphale immediately used a miracle to make the bookshop mysteriously unappealing to humans while Crowley set up a containing perimeter with a bit of a miracle and strategically placed spontaneous combustion.

“Crowley, dear.” Aziraphale began shyly as Crowley waited for him to place the bag in it. “Would I be able to cross into this?” He asked gently.

Crowley stared at the sigils for a moment. He lets out a frustrated groan. “Bless it all.”

“Sorry, my dear.” Aziraphale said guiltily. “I didn’t realise what kind of sigil it was until now.”

“Wait, let me just-Angel,are you alright?!” Crowley asked as he was about to miracle it gone with a raised hand only to whipped around to the angel.

Behind the demon, the apologetic angel had veins of darkness spread over his face. 

The affected angel looked around him instead, dropping the leather bag and started brushing himself as if he was cover in dust. “Is there something on me?” He asked in panic.

Crowley miracle the bag into the unfinished circle with one hand while processing what he was seeing. "Get a mirror and tell me." He growled, the stress of managing the situation and trying not to panic was making him antsy.

Upon the demon's advice, he did. However, he dropped the it with a gasp as he saw what happened. He finally focused his attention on the back of the hand that held the bag, realising it had black veins as well. His vessel was cursed.

Aziraphale, being an ethereal being, didn't realize the state of his body had reached because he only felt the unpleasant tingle of demonic energy. He thought, it was merely from the books. Had it been a human, they would have gone into a stupor as the curse saps the life from their body and drain them into a dried mummy. 

"Crowley, this body is cursed." Aziraphale said in confusion. "But I don't feel...anything." He said before Crowley took that hand and whipped off his glasses with the other. 

Crowley was 'reading' the curse and so did Aziraphale. They sensed the magic involved but it's not clear enough for either of them. Without hesitation, Crowley bowed closer and licked it using his demonic snake tongue, tasting the magic.

Aziraphale froze at that. Not sure on how to react. He's pretty giddy but as to why, he didn't dare to fathom lest he made it harder for Crowley to continue whatever this is.

Crowley, on the other hand, growled as he manages to identify what this was and gave a glare to the innocent looking leather bag in the circle of sigil. This is pure messed up magic. Percy was not a proper practitioner. Crowley should have realised it when Aziraphale mentioned about Percival using it. He was just another book fan with a non-supernatural related job.

Seeing the progress of the mistake, Aziraphale is going to be discorporated before he realises it...Or end up as a shriveled up zombie.

"Angel, it's a magical mistake." He identified. "Do you know how to break it?" He asked gravely, hoping that the angel can see it in time.

The thing about magic, ethereal or infernal, if it's not unraveled properly, it'll make even more problems, like severing a hydra's head. Some only needs a quick miracle but others requires some attention, especially one that mixes both infernal and ethereal methods. Aziraphale tried but it's like trying to see the back of their own head. 

Crowley watched in silent horror as his hand started to turn a mix of burnt black and blue. "Hurry." He warned the angel as Aziraphale gave a frustrated huff. "I can't, Crowley." He whined.

Taking no chances, he bowed down again and licked the hand again using a miracle to coax the spell into him and completing as it go and break it. It was the only part of him he had turned to his demonic self. It's going to take more time if he needs to shift another body part.

Aziraphale was trying very hard not to blush and get flustered at the act considering how inappropriate it is in the current situation but something was happening. As he felt whatever it is drain into Crowley, the pain started. It started off like the dull pain of a healing bruise which got worse and worse until he resorted to miracles to fix it. It was then, he realised how bad his corporeal body was as he lets the healing miracle run through his body. But it's only the parts of his body where the spell left. So the slow drain was making it unbearable for the angel.

Crowley realised that the angel was shaking but he needed to concentrate. He prepared to tumble down with him. If it's progressed far enough, he was sure the angel’s legs are going to stop working.

Aziraphale was starting to feel faint as he hangs on by placing his free hand over Crowley's shoulder.

Just as the last of the spell passed and broke, Aziraphale finally collapsed. Panicking, Crowley, quickly grabbed him before he fell on to the broken mirror shards. "That was close." He said more to himself than the barely conscious Aziraphale.

Holding him up, he miracled the floor clean and carried the angel to the nearest chair.

-o-o-

It took a full minute before Aziraphale recovered from the worst of it. It's one thing to grow back limbs and close wounds but it's another with when it's nearly withered.

Crowley and Aziraphale eventually got a pair of chairs and both set to read the book only to be surprised by the content. It's a revised version of the 'official fake' Grimoire of Pope Honorius III. This time, the spells or prayers would work and the protection it gives is genuine.

"Who would know such a thing?" Aziraphale said as he stared at the tattered book that was floating in mid-air with a miracle. That way, the book is untouched and whatever protective measure over the book is contained.

Inside, it was filled with scratches of correction and rather condescending comments on whoever made it are either mad or stupid. There even one tirade on how impractical one of the techniques was and it will only be done for the sole purpose of self-torture.

Crowley had been giggling every now and then, since the commentary is obviously meant for the original writer, who directly received instructions from Aziraphale. "Whoever it was, they were pretty angry." He said after finishing another giggle fit.

"But it's impossible for these to be from a human." Aziraphale said in a frustrated huff. "Look here. It's describing how to access Dantalion's Library in great accuracy."

Crowley froze at that. "Wait, where?" He asked. Suddenly, it all made sense.

Dantalion was a lover of the written human language. He was briefly on Earth one time for a delivery and suddenly found that the written human language curious and decided to hoard it. 

Of course, that got him sent back because he got distracted...and then, he'll try to cause book burnings and burning down libraries whenever he gets to Earth out of sheer jealousy or pride. He always needed to be one up from the humans back them.

The burning of the Alexandria Library was his best work despite not being his main assignment at that time. He and Crowley were supposed to get Cleopatra to kill his sister, Arsinoe IV. The temptation and corruption were easy. But killing Arsinoe was a lot harder than it looked and, in the end, they had to do the deed themselves disguising as assassins under her order.

Crowley suspected that Aziraphale had a hand. He should ask about it later.

"Right here." Aziraphale said in confusion. "But, it also has access to Buer's healing services-"

"Shhh." Crowley shushed his rambling as he continued reading the scratches carefully.

Aziraphale was crossed and was about to rebuke him. However, the demon looked so intent on what he was reading that Aziraphale was curious as well.

"Crowley, what's wrong?" Aziraphale asked tentatively.

"This book is Dantalion's, I'm sure of it." Crowley as he shifted the book again. "I can't seem to find the mark."

"Oh." Aziraphale said ominously.

Crowley froze and whipped at him. "What 'Oh’?" He asked.

"Well, I thought it was odd place for a sigil. It's embossed at the back of the book cover." He answered.

Crowley gave an exasperated grouse. "Should have know better." He said as he rubbed his face.

"There were many sigils. I simply thought it was part of it all." Aziraphale defended himself.

Crowley huffed as he flicked to close the book and turn it to its back. “No, no. We demons are showy bunch. Thought there’s some kind of complicated thing where you need to fold a page or something.”

At that, Aziraphale gave a gasp of disgust. “That’ll ruin the book!” He said as he helpfully shined a light over it to help the emboss appear clearer.

At that Crowley gave a tut of disgust. "Well, it won’t matter now. We should burn it." He declared. "And erase Percy's memory while we're at it."

"But Percival..." He dragged off sadly.

"Ah yes, him." Crowley said once he remembered. “After we figure out what to do with him, of course.” He added as an afterthought.

With that they spent a bit more time studying it.

-0-0-

Percival had miscomings about giving the book to anyone. He hasn't gone apart from it and he is quite sure that the prayer can hold on without the direct presence of the book. He just never has a chance to test it.

Now that it was decaying far too quickly, he needed to save it. He heard Mr. Fell was the nearest book restorer in the city. He was also an an able appraiser, so he took a chance for both restoration and appraising. Maybe it will give him a clue as to what are the origins of the book.

Thankfully, Mr. Fell was an amicable fellow if not a bit flighty. He was the one who identified it as the Grimoire of Pope Honorius III. If it really is, then it’s no wonder it worked. The previous owners had improved the prayer and methods until it fell into his hands.

His arthritis had come back during his sleep and he needed the book. Poor Anne tried to help but the best she could do was give him his old medicine. It dulled the pain but not the stiffness.

Taking his chances, he went to Fell's shop.

-0-0-

Aziraphale and Crowley had undone whatever Percival had use. It was a spell to eliminate pain and increase vigour. Aziraphale told Crowley how he was almost bedridden due to his arthritis and that alone is explanation.

Crowley made a crude assumption as to what other 'vigorous' activity he could have partake which earned a glare from the angel.

They didn't have to wait long after breakfast for him to com. Percival was already pale and strained when he reached there.

"Oh dear, have a seat." Aziraphale immediately got him a seat as Crowley went away to appear with two mugs of tea.

"Percy, do you need anything else?" He asked, looking sufficiently lost and sympathetic.

"No, no, Mr. Crowley." Percival comforted. "Maybe the book." He added jokingly with a laugh.

"Oh yes, the book." Aziraphale began. Both demon and angel had agreed to coax the information out. If this is a singular event, then they can be rest assured that there's no need for...evasive measures. 

But if there is a proper establishment, then they might need to steer clear of it. "Some pages are completely illegible. Had to buy almost a box full of filmoplast to keep it in piece. Where did you previously found it?" Aziraphale sounded genuinely remorseful.

Percival panicked. There were pages beyond repair? "I found it at as Sunday flea market." He said in despair. "The seller only has one of it. Please, tell me the prayer for healing is safe? It had worked for me and I am simply desperate for it"

That made both angel and demon breath an internal sigh of relief. It was just an assignment.

"Please, calm down. Only the first and the last 10 or so pages are beyond repair. If my memory is right, the said pages are safe." Aziraphale soothed, using a bit of miracle to quicken things.

"I'm glad." He breathed a sigh of relief. "If it's alright with you, would it be possible for me to read the page?"

"Unfortunately, no. I'm in the midst of desiccating them. If I take it out now it might ruin the pages further." Aziraphale said believably. The real thing was already burnt to ashes and there were fake restoring paraphernalia around just in case.

Percival looked like a cornered animal now. 

"Umm, perhaps there's a similar one I can procure." Crowley caught their attention, defusing the situation immediately. "I'm with the National Library. Perhaps, I can 'borrow' one?" He added mischievously.

Percival looked at him suspiciously.

Crowley raised his hands disarmingly. "I can assure you that being saddled with this job is just means for me to feed myself...and meeting my husband." He added teasingly, a smirk making way onto his lips.

Aziraphale couldn't help but gawk. It didn't help that Percival was emitting joy and fondness at the story, making him blush from embarrassment.

"Oh my." He exclaimed with a soft chuckle. "Serendipitous meeting." He commented with an amused smile at Aziraphale.

Aziraphale cleared his throat. "Well, I remembered it spoke about not imbibing alcohol or so. But I'm not sure." He quickly got back on track. They were going to suggest another book, containing proper prayers this time. Of course, vaguely archaic name included.

"Ah yes, there were also mentions of healing and seeking aid from God, as well." Percival included hopefully.

"Hmmm." He hummed thoughtfully. "It's going to be a bit of work but we can start with the books here."

-0-0-

Crowley and Aziraphale ended up making a show of the many odd books in Aziraphale's shop before coming up with the replacement prayer book.

Percival, being curious, was asking Crowley of his background and how he met Aziraphale.

He simply answered it was a work event and he was standing near Aziraphale when a storm came and Aziraphale offered his coat as temporary shelter.

Once the prayer took effect, Percival manages to recover most of his limb's function. (Actually, it's a very, very small miracle that eased his arthritis but he doesn’t need to know that.)

"Thank Someone that's finished." Crowley said as they closed the door.

Aziraphale gave him a sound slap on his upper arm causing him to yelp. "Don't do that again, demon." He said crossly before turning towards the back room, still a bit cross for the 'husband' declaration.

"Wha-come on, it's not that bad." He complained as the angel walked towards the back room.”Angellll~, I’m ssorryy.” He whined with a lisp as he followed the angel.

Aziraphale stopped in his tracks and addressed the demon again. “It’s not that it’s far from the truth but I would appreciate a little warning next time.” He said as he gave a stern look before deflating into his usually soft look. “Now, there is a fine flask of madeira I managed to procure from a favour. Perhaps you would like to join me?”

Breaking out into a smirk at the indirect forgiveness, the demon sauntered ahead. “Of course, angel.”

-0-0-

Somewhere, Dantalion was lounging in _his_ Library. Suddenly, he heard the familliar crackle of flames when a delivery is being sent his way. Oddly enough, it was a copy of one of his books. It was traded off with a soul a several centuries ago. He never bothered to retrieve it back.

Oddly enough, there was a loose page. Seeing this, he received the book and took out the loose page and laughed once he read it. "Bless you a thousand times, Crowley!" He shouted back with in amusement.

It was a very poor drawing of a dick signed by Crowley. Under it was a message. _"Don't leave your books lying around, you knob._ "

**Author's Note:**

> Can't help but feel this was a bit underdone despite the work but it was stagnating badly.
> 
> Anyway, hope you guys had a good read and a belated Happy New Year.


End file.
